Entering the Gare du Nord terminal in Paris, I peered up at the soaring glass ceiling enclosing the cavernous central hall. Knowing it was the busiest train station in Europe, I held my arms close to my sides to protect my valuables from ever-present pickpockets. Designed by the famous French architect Jacques Hittorff in the Beaux-Arts style of the mid-nineteenth century, I marveled at the ornate cast-iron pillars supporting the enormous structure. It was a clear sunny day, and bright beams of light angled through the windows, illuminating the shiny trains resting beside their platforms. I glanced at my ticket and headed toward gate eighteen, where I was about to embark on a five-day/four-night tour of Europe aboard the most famous train in history.
Passing through the pastoral countryside of southern France and the deep valleys of the Swiss Alps, the Orient Express wound its way through seven countries, terminating at the gateway to Asia in Istanbul. With its storied past and recently refurbished equipment, I was looking forward to being pampered in the five-star dining car and my own private cabin on the traveling caravan. I'd heard so much about the glamor and prestige of the famous line, and as I approached the black-and-gold vintage train cars sitting by the platform, my heart began to flutter in excitement.
Near the front of the train, a porter wearing a brass-buttoned uniform and white gloves checked my ticket then helped me up the steps into the forward compartment. When I stepped into the carriage, I was shocked at how opulent it looked. The main salon was decorated with sumptuous velour upholstery, polished cherry wood paneling, crystal lanterns, and giant windows framed with royal blue curtains. More beautiful than any luxury hotel I'd ever stayed in, the setting literally took my breath away.
"Oh my God," I muttered to the porter. "It's like I've entered a whole different world. This isn't like any train I've been on before."
"That's a common reaction from our first-time travelers," he said. "Our owners have spared no expense in recreating the feel and authenticity of the original train. If you like the main seating area, I think you'll be very pleased with your cabin. I see you've chosen the grand suite."
"Yes," I nodded. "I figured if I'm going to splurge on a luxury train ride, I might as well go all the way."
"I think you'll find the extra space is quite comfortable. You've got three large viewing windows, your own sitting area, and a large private washroom."
"Well if it's anything like the rest of the train," I said, tracing my fingers along the luxurious upholstery as we passed by the four-person seating booths, "I'm sure I'll be delighted."
We walked through two more carriages down a narrow passageway then he stopped by a polished wooden door with a brass handle.
"Here we are, madam," he said, opening the door and motioning for me to enter ahead of him with his gloved hand.
I stepped into the anteroom and gasped out loud. The entire chamber gleamed in a mixture of knurled walnut paneling, crystal light fixtures, and suede seat coverings. The king-size bed was festooned with plush Egyptian-cotton linens and blue-and-gold embroidered cushions, with outside light streaming in the huge viewing windows lining the entire side of the compartment."
"It's...breathtaking," I said, hardly believing my eyes. "It's the most beautifully bedroom I've ever seen. Is this all just for me?"
"Yes, ma'am," the porter said, opening another door next to the sitting area. "As is this private ensuite bathroom."
I peered inside the washroom, my eyes opening as wide as saucers.
Almost every surface was covered in polished alabaster marble. From the large, glass-enclosed walk-in shower to the brass taps on the vanity to the separately enclosed toilet, everything reeked of first class. It even had a separate, sit-down makeup table, replete with Lalique crystal lamps.
"If I ever get to heaven," I sighed. "This is what I hope it looks like."
"I'm glad you like it, ma'am," the porter said. "As part of your grand suite package, you also have twenty-four-hour butler service, private in-cabin dining, and free-flowing champagne for the duration of your trip."
"Okay, so wait," I chuckled. "Are you sure I'm not already in heaven?"
The porter set my bags down on the floor and backed up toward the entrance door.
"Please, make yourself comfortable," he said. "If you need anything at all, press this button and your butler will call upon you shortly. Dinner in the main cabin will be served starting at seven p.m. But the bar is open twenty-four-seven. I hope you enjoy your stay with us."
"I only wish it could be longer," I smiled, discreetly handing him a ten-Euro tip. "Are you sure this train doesn't go any further than Istanbul?"
"For now, at least," he said. "That's the end of the line. But I've heard rumors our operator is considering extending the service into the Middle East and beyond, following the path of the Silk Road used by Marco Polo."
"Now that would be a truly memorable journey," I nodded. "It is called the Orient Express, after all."
